To me at my fifth-floor window <br />The chimney-pots in rows <br />Are sets of pipes pandean <br />For every wind that blows; <br /> <br />And the smoke that whirls and eddies <br />In a thousand times and keys <br />Is really a visible music <br />Set to my reveries. <br /> <br />O monstrous pipes, melodious <br />With fitful tune and dream, <br />The clouds are your only audience, <br />Her thought is your only theme!<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-me-at-my-fifth-floor-window/
